


Homecoming

by Siria



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-21
Updated: 2009-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-03 20:53:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Rodney said, staggering through the door, scattering coat and hat and backpack to rest where they would. "Hello, bed, hello, I've missed you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> For Cate.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Rodney said, staggering through the door, scattering coat and hat and backpack to rest where they would. "Hello, bed, hello, I've missed you."

He toed off his boots and let himself fall face first onto the bed with a quiet _oof_, wriggling into the soft comforter he hadn't seen in three whole weeks. "Bed, bed, bed," he chanted softly, words muffled by the bed covers, but apparently still audible enough for John to snort and say, "Well done on identifying the furniture, buddy."

"Missed it," Rodney said, shifting over a couple of inches when John flopped down next to him. "Mattress. _Pillows_."

"Get them on a bed, too," John agreed. Rodney cracked open one eye to see that John was lying on his back, arms and legs splayed out wide enough to make him look like an overgrown, stubbly starfish. His eyes were closed and from the pinched lines around his mouth and the dark circles under his eyes, he was about as tired as Rodney felt.

Rodney closed his eyes again and made a command decision. He wormed his way slowly across the mattress until his head was pillowed on John's shoulder and an arm was slung across John's waist. "No more commercial aircraft," he said into the curve of John's collarbone. "No more eighteen hour layovers, no more losing luggage, no more screaming children _of death_, no more turbulence—"

"Ugh," John said, "God. Don't mention the turbulence."

"I have to mention it!" Rodney said. "It was traumatising, talking about it is therapeutic."

John made a face. "Don't care."

Rodney flailed a hand around, almost smacking John in the face. "Awful, horrible, almost _barfed_ all over the—"

"Rodney," John said evenly, "if you start talking about vomit, you know what I will be forced to do."

"You would not," Rodney said.

"I so would," John said.

"I think our vows expressly forbid that."

"Nuh uh," John said. "I was paying attention."

"You are a horrible person," Rodney said, because he knew once the spectre of tickling had been raised, it would not go away."

"Same to you, McKay," John said, and then snaked a hand up under Rodney's 'Marriage is so Gay' t-shirt in an attempt to make Rodney laugh and gasp and squirm.

Worked, too—at least until they both fell off the bed, landing in a heap on the floor with John's elbow in Rodney's ribs and John's t-shirt caught around his ears.

"You suck," Rodney said, subsiding against John with a happy sigh.

"You too," John said, smacking a kiss against Rodney's temple. "Happy anniversary."


End file.
